


Syncing

by Rimaina



Series: JohnDaveWeek 2018 [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Day 1-Urban Fantasy, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Sirens, Urban Fantasy, johndaveweek, possible series in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 13:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15144098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rimaina/pseuds/Rimaina
Summary: Independence isn't without its consequences. Living alone is nice and all yeah, but sometimes you think about home, wonder what it would be like if you never left in the first place. The world is a song and you want to listen to it till the very end.





	Syncing

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize in advance as most of this is unedited and unbeta'd. Enjoy the story :D

The world is a song. That’s how it was presented to you. It all starts with the beat of your heart, the steady rhythm that announces your birth to the world. The careful hands of surgeons, nurses, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves outside of your hospital room. Not long after the bell-like wailing of your tiny self, the sound of a flatline floods the room. The rush of shoes, thuds and thumps, whispered orders filled everyone’s ears. A man in a business suit rushes inside, holding the hand of the woman on the hospital bed, your mother. Your ears fell deaf to everything else, the sound of silence filled your brain. 

\----------

Fleeting notes echo around your suburban home. Fingers press on the ivory keys of the piano inside the study. Your mother died giving birth to you and you were left with your father. He celebrated your entry into the world, he mourned less for your mother, he firmly believed that it is better to celebrate life rather than mourn the dead. Your father did tell you that it was your mother’s wish to not be mourned and to be cremated as per family tradition. You’ve inherited many things from your mother, starting with your gift for music, and in particular, with the piano. The piano was an heirloom from your mother-side, it served the family well, accompanying all kinds of events from the happiest to the saddest.

It’s the one thing in the house that was kept and maintained in good condition 24/7. There were many memories made with the piano and you who will inherit the instrument, plan to make more memories with it. Your father had kept VHS tapes of your mother playing the very same piano you are playing right now. She loves to sing while she’s playing the piano, her voice like a violin while the piano serves as the accompaniment. Your father fell in love with that voice, that powerful yet gentle voice that can move the wind and the clouds. You close your eyes and see blooming yellow flowers, the feel of spring and the coming of life, her voice reflecting her emotions perfectly. It’s abstract, how she shows her love, it resonates well with her pregnant with you at that time.

You were not blessed with a voice like hers. You don’t think anyone could compare to your mother’s tunes, her melody, her very soul that she put inside her singing. Her voice is an encouragement for you to pursue music, and so you did, took lessons since you were nine years old. After many years of practicing the piano, going to music schools, you can never find the rhythm you are going for. It’s hard to explain to someone else even if they too are attuned to music like you. There’s this style that you’re trying to find, something distinct, something that resonates inside you and everyone who hears your music.

A piano isn’t enough, you tell yourself, it’s what you believe. Despite your father’s encouraging words about your playing, it’s never enough.

You didn’t like the feeling of being alone inside a large house. Granted that it’s not as big as you remember it, having grown taller and larger compared to your smaller frame years ago. Puberty had hit like a cement truck at a busy highway. You think it’s about time to move out and leave your bird’s nest. The house can stay under your name, you rather not sell the property in case you decided to come back, in case that you would start your own family.

The sounds of the footsteps reverberate on the walls of the living room, the lights turned off, white tarps cover old furniture. Everything was a shade of grey, the sound of silence that you’ve grown accustomed to has filled your brain once again. It was blue, it was cold, a distant hum at the back of your brain, memories that flit behind your eyes, just barely rippling the surface. It was time to move, to search for the music that left you empty and aching since your birth, amplified by your father’s death.

You’re 27 years old, you’re an adult, and you know that your father would be proud of you no matter what you have decided on.

A sleepy town by the ocean seemed a nice and quiet place to gather your thoughts and think about the future. It wasn’t exactly a sleepy town, it was a tourist trap for those who would like to escape from the material world of technology. Time feels slower here, following the rhythm of people not minding how much time passed. Colors were not as bright as the lights you see far off the distance back at your suburban home. This town was a world of sepia and gold, much more evident during the night time. The lot you’ve bought had a brick house standing on it. It was not as big as your old house but it was just the right size for you who was now living alone.

For the first few days, you’ve gathered yourself and explored the town, seeing the sights it had to offer. It had large wet market being next to the ocean, you’re glad that your house was far enough to not smell the fishy smell from the fresh marine animals hauled from the sea over yonder. Stalls with touristy trinkets and exotic treats can be found in the middle of the town. The center of the town has a fountain that houses what looks like mythical being from the ocean. You are aware that sirens and merpeople are not the same. Quite a common misconception really.

Your brain wanders off to an internal monologue of how sirens and merpeople are not the same, arguing with a fictional person who is probably in front of you, whom does not exist at all and was created for the fact that you needed some being to have an argument with because it would be embarrassing for someone to see that you’re arguing to yourself, which you are doing right now and you need to stop.

It was faint on your ears, something that strummed across your chest that made you stop your internal monologue. Your ears strain to find that sound, a tune like a rise and fall of ocean waves by the beach. The sound of a strummed bass guitar in the air. It was deep, it resonates down to your core. You don’t understand what you’re hearing, it’s all abstract in your head. But it's making you feel something emotionally, making you see colors, things that should not be possible without experiencing first hand.

The rumble of your stomach distracts you from pursuing the source of that tune. The charm disappeared like a bubble bursting. Clarity comes slowly and you're back to the world of mundane. Rows of golden clouds fill the sky when you look up. The sun was setting beyond the horizon and it was beautiful to look at. You didn't realize that you were still walking while you were listening for that tune, frankly, you're glad that you did because it led you to a restaurant by the bay.

Nothing special about this restaurant, it had a lot of tables set outside the building, possibly doing so that the tourists can appreciate the view the bay has to offer. Inhaling the salty ocean air was quite refreshing and nostalgic of the times you went to the beach with your dad, which was not often. There is a square platform in the middle of all the tables which was about a foot in height and two meters on all sides.

It was a stage for live music, there was a microphone facing the ocean, the sound system surrounds the dining area outside, and presumably smaller speakers were inside the restaurant building. You watch as waiters and waitresses come and go by tables servicing their customers. Your feet take you to the front podium where a cheery dude with a dimpled smile greets you and asks for how many people would be dining, in which you say it's only you. He asks if you would like to have a table inside or outside the restaurant to which you reply you wanted the latter.

The guy leads you towards the very front of the tables and you have front row seats to the best scenery this town has to offer. Service water was served to you while the guy handed a menu, the pricing seemed fair judging from the pictures of the servings of dishes. You weren't feeling particularly fancy tonight so you ordered the basic fish and chips with a large honey lemon iced tea and chocolate lava cake to be served later for dessert.

The guy takes the menu back and leaves your table. You stand up from your seat and look over to the ocean. It was mesmerizing, like molten copper and gold enveloping the entire horizon. Strong gusts of ocean breeze play with your hair and clothes. Your hands were on the railings that separate the restaurant with the beach, there was a meter drop when you look down. Even the sand on the beach took to the golden hues the sky has. It's there even when you close your eyes.

This place will be your new home and you are giving yourself a pat on the back for choosing this area. With a view like this, who cares what the food will taste like when you eat it. You sit back and relax while waiting for your order, sipping the glass of water occasionally. Crashing waves and idle chatter fill your ears, it was a comfortable hum of the unrushed lifestyle the town had to offer.

Rays of sunlight leave your vision as the sun sank under the horizon, giving a crimson red light that blankets the entire place. Not soon after, the lamp posts light up giving a rustic light along the streets, just in time for the darkness of the night to envelop the town. The restaurant front turns on a string of lights under their banner, adding light and life around it.

Your meal arrives and you eat slowly. Savoring both the food and the view. You dig this kind of life, yeah, no need to rush things and no one to reprimand you about your pace. Around a third of your meal left on the plate did you start thinking about your source of income. You can't rely on the money you inherited from your family. That's not a thing a responsible adult would do. 

You dropped out of Marine Biology to pursue your passion for music which your father supported wholeheartedly. Nine years of piano playing was under your belt, maybe you could become a music teacher? Finding students would be a hard task especially since you didn't exactly have accreditation.

A freelancer musician, maybe? Yeah, that could work. The town is tourist friendly and you think there are more than a few restaurants that offer live music like this one where you can perform.

A few moments pass while you are almost done with your meal. Suddenly, you can feel that strum of strings in your chest. You could hear it clearly now, it's much closer than before. It's like a metronome in your heart, giving you a beat to follow. You hear the sound system turn on behind your back and you turn your seat around to face the stage. There was a person there, sitting on a high stool with a guitar hanging from his shoulders. He was humming something but how you heard his humming when the speakers weren't even on yet is beyond you.

The waiter helps him adjust two mics, one for the guitar and one in front of his face. Looks like he’s one of the performer’s for the night. You wonder how much he makes just doing this every day, wonder if he's like you who chose this kind of lifestyle.

He hums a tune while he continues to check the mics. The tune...resonates with you. It's not a melody you were familiar with, it's more like the voice humming the tune is what's plucking at your heart. This has never happened before.

Mic check done, a cough to the side. And for the first time in your life, you hear a siren’s song.


End file.
